Merchant's Pride
category:Classic OtherSpace Logs Bridge - Wolf Class Frigate - SESFF Guardian Shield - This room is the brains of the ship, to the fore a large viewscreen occupies most of the forward wall, giving a grand and impressive view of computer rendered space. Directly before this are two seats, one for the pilot, and one for the co-pilot, both equipped with heads-up holographic displays to aid in flying the craft. Set slightly behind and between the two is a single black chair, presumably for the captain of the vessel. Set around the edges of the room are various subsidiary control systems and their attendant seats. Space is fairly reasonable if you are a human, however, when all the consoles are occupied, it is still a squeeze to move, to the aft, a door leads out to the main corridor. MacDonald moves towards the command console, "Is everyone on?" Shadowstrike nods, "Pilot's here. Let's go." MacDonald frowns and nods, "Allright, undock..and plot a course for -2500000, -182333, -3038002 Shadowstrike nods, "Consider it done" The bay doors begin to slide open as the Guardian Shield prepares for departure ... You feel a sudden lift as the Guardian Shield glides forth from the docking bay. MacDonald leans back in the chair, "From what I've heard it will be a pirate vessel. In all likelihood it will run off as soon as we show up on the scene. If not, be prepared for a boarding action.." THX-1136 walks over to a nearby console and begins studying it, one of it's sensors slowly rotating as it continually scans the interior of the ship. MacDonald nods, "Set your heading at 0 mark -13.." MacDonald adds, "Set speed at 9000. When we clear Demaria's gravity well hit the jumpers.." You feel a sudden jerk as the ship speeds up. Shadowstrike nods, "Workin on it. We're accelerating away from the Well. Shadowstrike takes a breath, "Almost out of the well." The ship roars and lurches as it enters OtherSpace. The ship reverberates slightly as it speeds through hyperspace. Shadowstrike turns to the others, "Two Minutes!" Shadowstrike nods, "One minute until reversion." MacDonald nods, "Very well.." The ship shudders as it drops out of OtherSpace. Shadowstrike speaks into his microphone, transmitting the following message. "this is the Guardian Shield from Sanctuary. We are en route." The ship roars and lurches as it enters OtherSpace. The ship shudders as it drops out of OtherSpace. You feel the ship begin to slow. Shadowstrike speaks into his microphone, transmitting the following message. "This is the Guardian Shield. We have arrived and are heading towards your location at maximum sublight speed." You feel the ship begin to slow. The ship roars and lurches as it enters OtherSpace. The ship shudders as it drops out of OtherSpace. Merchant's Pride floats aimlessly in space, it's reactor and propulsion systems spewing plasma and ion streams into the black void of space. Shadowstrike speaks into his microphone, transmitting the following message. "This is not good. There's no trace of the attacking vessel?" You feel the ship begin to slow. Shadowstrike speaks into his microphone, transmitting the following message. "What sort of weapons were used against the Merchant's Pride? Military-grade, or more easily-attainable types?" Shadowstrike turns to the others, "The Merchant's Pride is drifting. She's heavily damaged, but sensors indicate she did not go down without returning fire. We're too late." MacDonald frowns as he leans back in his chair, "See if we can get closer and dock. There must be survivors onboard." Merchant's Pride shudders lightly as the Basil Hallward's docking clamp extends out to mate with it's oddly intact airlock coupling. MacDonald frowns, "What ships are out there?" THX-1136 turns it's head toward the viewscreen and tilts it's head, the faint buzzing sound of servo motors accompanying it's movement. Shadowstrike nods, "The Basil Hallward is already docking. There's the Hallward and the Galactix." Shadowstrike frowns slightly, "And an oddly-intact Merchant's Pride" MacDonald frowns, "Basil Hallward? Never heard of her.." Shadowstrike speaks into his microphone, transmitting the following message. "All right. So we probably won't be able to track the ship down? Too many weapons signatures and a mixed trail? Something's not quite right..." MacDonald arches his eyebrow, "What's not right?" Shadowstrike shrugs, "Nor have I, Mr. MacDonald. The crew of the ship is doing what it can, though. I don't know, something just doesn't feel right. Correct me if I'm wrong, but at least some aspect of most pirate attacks are traceable, right? Both engine and weapons are completely ambiguous..." MacDonald chuckles, "You obviously haven't met some of the pirates around here. Usually they aren't traceable. Send a hail towards the Basil Hallward..Exchange greetings and see if you can tell where they're from gentle like." Shadowstrike speaks into his microphone, transmitting the following message. "Nothing in particular, just scanning for damage." Merchant's Pride continues to drift alongside the Hallward, the two locked in a dance in which the healthy yacht leads. Shadowstrike speaks into his microphone, transmitting the following message. "Will do." Alt-Galactix extends a variety of probes out of his hull, collecting samples of the surrounding space gases for analysis. Shadowstrike speaks into his microphone, transmitting the following message. "Basil Hallward, this is the SESFF Guardian Shield. First, thank you for your assistance here. Could we get your ship's nationality for the records?" Shadowstrike turns to the crew, "I'm still waiting for the Hallward's response. Mr. MacDonald, can I get your feeling about this event? Is something not right, or am I simply being paranoid?" You feel the ship begin to slow. Shadowstrike speaks into his microphone, transmitting the following message. "We're en route, Basil Hallward. We'll transmit again when we reach a closer distance." MacDonald tilts his head, "I don't know. We'll deal with whatever happens the best that we can." He frowns at the next message, "Was there a reply?" Shadowstrike nods, "Yes. We just kept moving, I was distracted and forgot to cut the engines." MacDonald ahs, "Allright." MacDonald leans back in his chair, staring at the viewscreen, "Anything in the way of a reply?" Shadowstrike nods, "The Basil Hallward couldn't read us well. I'm headed back to take a look." Shadowstrike speaks into his microphone, transmitting the following message. "Basil Hallward, this is the Guardian Shield. Do you read us clearly?" Shadowstrike speaks into his microphone, transmitting the following message. "Basil Hallward, this is the Guardian Shield. Do you read?" You feel a slight force as the ship glides to a halt ... Shadowstrike speaks into his microphone, transmitting the following message. "Basil Hallward, do you read?" MacDonald frowns, "Is she still around?" Shadowstrike turns to the crew, "Mr. MacDonald, THX-1136, Would you like me to dock with the Merchant's Pride so one of us can head over there? The Basil Hallward told us it would be allright several minutes ago, but we just entered range for it." Shadowstrike speaks into his microphone, transmitting the following message. "Allright." MacDonald nods faintly, "Do so." MacDonald glances around, "I'll be right back.. MacDonald heads into Main Corridor - Wolf Class Frigate. Shadowstrike turns as MacDonald leaves, "I need you to lower the shields.." MacDonald arrives from Main Corridor - Wolf Class Frigate. Shadowstrike turns to MacDonald, "We've docked. You may go aboard at any time. If you want me to come, I will." Merchant's Pride shudders as the much larger Wolf Class Frigate boards it. MacDonald nods, "Both of you can come with me." THX-1136 turns toward MacDonald, rising up to a taller height. "Certainly." Shadowstrike nods, "All right." He stands, getting out of the pilot's chair, and moves towards MacDonald. "Let's get this over with." ---------------------------- Master Corridor This long, narrow corridor spans the length of this small freighter. Tiled in non-reflection traction tiles it is dimly lit from closely-packed light panels set into the ceiling. Circular hatches made entirely of interlocking pieces of metal snap open and closed with a small motion sensor. An especially large hatch set into foremost end of the corridor leads into the bridge. Shadowstrike walks in, glancing around, a curious and slightly worried look on his face. As the trio walks aboard the vessel, they're met with the immediate stench of burning flesh and crackling insulation. Blood smears the bulkheads, handprints decorating it at sporadic intervals as they decend along the wall to expose the first of a series of mutilated bodies. MacDonald steps through from the bridge ahead of the other two.. "Mother of.." He holds his arm up over his nose and starts to move forward, "See if you can find anyone alive.." A living form is near the open bridge doorway which is currently leaking small ribbons of thin smoke into the much wider corridor. MacDonald heads for the form through the smoke.. Shadowstrike takes in the sight of the bodies with a look of disgust on his face, though the worry and curiosity doesn't leave his face. He follows MacDonald towards the form. Gray turns towards the sound of people entering, green eyes watering, but sharp. "Guardian crew, I take it?" MacDonald nods faintly, "You from the Basil Hallward?" Shadowstrike nods, still looking around with a now-uneasy look on his face. Tinkling beneath the booted feet of the three men is the sound of skattering metal rings. ... Shell casings. Gray nods in return. "Galactix pick up anything else about the attackers?" Shadowstrike shrugs, "Not that they informed us about. It's possible, though." MacDonald shakes his head quietly, "Not since we docked." He turns to survey the rest of the room, "Seen anything to indicate the pirate's identities?" Gray smiles narrowly, "All I know is that these people fired quite a bit, don't you think?" He nods to the shell casings, "And this is as far as I've gone." The man nearest the bridge door, hand gripping a large combat knife even in death, is still spilling blood over the floor as gravity drains his fluids onto the deckplates. No burnt markings or power burns to indicate a death by projectile, there's merely a simple slit at the base of his throat. A thin red line of crimson adorns the knife's cutting edge. THX-1136 lifts it's arms in front of it, the weapons mounted upon them blinking to life. It tilts it's head and slowly rotates the sapphire blue lenses that serve as eyes, scanning the entirety of the master corridor. Shadowstrike raises an eyebrow, "Indeed." He looks at the man near the door, then at the other bodies, "There are many casings from slugthrowers, but curiously enough, no bodies besides that of the crew. Correct?" MacDonald frowns, "It's been a while since I've seen combat. But damn.. How could someone shoot so many times..and still be killed by a knife." Gray's smooth brow furrows. "Self inflicted?" He says. Then he nods, "So why doesn't the machine lead in? There is more to find than what is in this hallway." Shadowstrike sees the actions of the Phyrrian and draws his sidearm uneasily. "I do not like what this shows, at all. The man commited suicide, apparently to spare himself from something." He keeps the sidearm down and falls in behind the mech. MacDonald arches an eyebrow, "Of course.." THX-1136 extends several sensors from it's cranial unit before clomping steadily toward the bridge. Bridge This small room is centered around a large holo-table projecting a map of current space. A large viewscreen at the fore of the bridge shows outside the ship while various ship positions are monitored at stations set against the wall. A large commander's chair is set on a small rise in front of the holotable, affording a full view of the entire room. Shadowstrike turns to the Mech and gestures to the Core. "THX-1136, there's a computer core. Any chance you think you can crack it when we have time?" THX-1136 leads into the bridge, a series of lights atop the double-barrelled plasma rifle mounted on it's arm blinking rapidly. "Yes, I believe so." The bridge appears to be the last stand for the crew of this ill fated vessel. Bodies lie broken and tattered behind consoles, atop of consoles, and in front of them. Shell cases are piled by the inch. Tightened hands, vigilant even in death, manage to retain grasp ahold energy and projectile weapons. Many of their faces are twisted into masks of fear, terror, and pain. Gray stays near the door. "While it does that, someone should check over the rest of the ship." The navigation console's main screen, visible between the fingertips of the man who's slouched over it, displays the vessel's stored waypoint list. MacDonald nods faintly, "Make sure it waits until we have secured this place. Against..whatever it was." He kneels to pick up a shell casing..then he turns and looks the opposite direction of the crew. "Hmm." Through the doorway, to the back of the master corridor, the bulkhead is pocked full of bullet holes. Shadowstrike turns to the Nav Console, "Mr. MacDonald, I will check the ship's navigation console for anything useful. The mech will be working on the core, I assume. If you wish, you may search the rest of the ship. Personally, I would advise that we stick together." MacDonald stands, "Care to join me, sir?" He asks of Gray. Shadowstrike nods once to MacDonald and Gray and heads towards the Navigation console, gingerly stepping over the bodies of the crew. "Personally I think that the sooner this space is left, the better." Gray detatches from the wall and moves to exit. "And speed is best done by splitting up." He looks to MacDonald and nods. "I couldn't agree more." MacDonald follows the man out the exit, leaving the other two to their work. Gray and MacDonald head into Master Corridor. THX-1136 lowers it's arms and heads toward the computer core. It peers at the computer with expressionless eyes, and several sectors of the network of lights on it's head begin to blink. Shadowstrike reads through the various displays in the console, noting any information that could be useful. As Shadowstrike moves the man slouched over the console's screen out of the way, a spurt of crimson plasma erupting from the man's chest cavity as he bounces from the corner of the machinery where an energy blast has fused his veins. The impact jars loose blood clots, causing the spurt, and drenches a section of the feline's arm. Shadowstrike looks down in disgust as the blood soaks his jacket. He looks over the waypoint list and suddenly glances up, a look of suprise on his face, "Agent, I know little about interstellar commerce, but what would a ship be doing coming from Earth to Demaria? I'm thinking about it, and the origin of the ship being Earth is the only thing of interest that I have found so far." On the screen of the computer core, an image forms as THX-1136 manages to crack the system - A vessel anywhere between the size of a Kestrel Escort and a Chandler Class Freighter looms forever frozen in the computer's memory. It's body may remind one of the very front of an ancient Earth shark's head without any type of fins. An armor plating of what appears to be floating fish scales balancing upon some unknown type of electrical energy cover the vessel's hull. Behind it trails two long whiskers which appear to be the vessel's propulsion. Aside from that, it's free of markings and battle damage. THX-1136 turns from the computer core to look up at the viewscreen. "This vessel's configuration is unfamiliar to me." Shadowstrike raises an eyebrow and looks over at the picture, abandoning the Nav console, "The console's mostly useless. And I have never seen anything like the vessel. The armor is fascinating. I wish we could have seen it." THX-1136 nods once, gears buzzing faintly with each movement. "I will attempt to bring the computer system online." You are able to determine that the image held on the screen is currently being stored in the computer's soft memory, not having been dedicated as yet to the corrupted hard memory database. Shadowstrike nods, "The more information we can get, the better. With this ship design being unfamiliar to both of us, I am even more uneasy. I feel it would be best to glean whatever we can, and then depart." The man on the floor twitches his finger.. THX-1136 turns back to the computer core and studies it for another moment. "Unsuccessful. I will attempt to download this image into my database for later reference." One of the Phyrrian's sensors swivels around to scan the source of the minute movement. He turns toward Shadowstrike, and motions with a mechanical arm toward the man on the floor. "He is still functional." Shadowstrike turns towards the man on the floor, examining him carefully before dropping to a knee near him, searching for a pulse in the man's neck. The finger has been all that moves and the body goes motionless once more. "Damn." The Demarian places his head near the man's mouth, feeling and listening for any breath while watching the man's chest for movement. "Agent, does the Guardian Shield have a well-equipped medical bay?" The man's finger twitches again... ...his chest does not move. "I do not know." THX-1136 moves away from the computer core and approaches the man and the Demarian, dedicating several sensors to a thorough examination of the man on the floor. Shadowstrike shakes his head, "He's not breathing and he has no pulse. Apparently, he has some nervous activity, though, as his finger just twitched again." Shadowstrike searches the man with his eyes again before removing his heavy leather jacket and wiping any blood away from the man's mouth. The man's mouth is wiped clean, eyelids closed, chest unmoving. As the leather scrapes over his lips, a sound begins to escape. That of a drowning man whimpering for help through the bubbles of blood. Shadowstrike hears the man and moves back slightly, grabbing the man by his hips and shoulders and rolling him into a position so that any fluids will drain out of his mouth. "We're trying to help you. Hold on. THX, does the Guardian Shield have a medbay at all? We need to get this man on life support if he is even to have a hope of survival." THX-1136 lowers itself down, nearer to the man. The hissing of hydraulics can be with each of the Phyrrian's major movement. "Unfortunately, I do not know." Shadowstrike swears and rolls the man back onto his back, lowering his head and tilting the man's head back slightly in preparation to give a breath as he utters a quick prayer. "Hold on, human. You must live." The man gurgles again and then the body goes still. A moment or two passes and his mouth begins opening and closing like a fish out of water. The head turns, a long stream of blood leaking out from between his lips due to Shadowstrike's maneuvers. Slowly, very slowly, the man's eyes open, revealing the bouncing white backs of two bloodshot eyeballs, the pupils evidently somewhere up near the forehead. Shadowstrike looks in disgust at the blood, then wipes the man's mouth with his sleeve again, checking his pulse and breathing once more. THX-1136 remains utterly motionless, save for the occasional blinking of lights on it's head. "Demarian male, is there something I can do to assist resuscitation?" Shadowstrike smiles lightly, "Call me Shadowstrike. Yes, possibly. Are you familiar with the techniques involved in Cardio-Pulminary Resuscitation?" The man's eyeballs bounce around a few more times before his pupils suddenly arrive front and center to affix their attentive stare directly on THX-1136. The mouth ceases movement and his lips begin to curl upward into an eerie smile even as the feline talks of resuscitation. Shadowstrike repositions his fingers and tries to find a pulse for the last time as he prepares to begin compressions. THX-1136's eye-lenses angle down toward the man, then up to Shadowstrike. "I have no knowledge of biological medicine." The lenses angle back down toward the man as he stares upward at the Phyrrian. Shadowstrike swears and moves, straddling the man's knees and placing one palm between the man's nipples and placing the other palm on top of it, the feline still blissfully unaware of the man's stare. MacDonald and Gray arrive from Master Corridor. The head of the man just tilts to the side, the smile and inquisitive gaze still firmly attached to the Phyrrian. Shadowstrike's movements seem to go unnoticed by him. MacDonald walks in, "Allright let's head em u..." He pauses.. A man lies on the deckplaes, his lips curved upward in a smile as he stares at THX-1136. Shadowstrike, meanwhile, is poised over his legs, hands in a position as if ready to give CPR. The man's skin is pale and smeared with blood and gore. His lips are bright red, blood smeared over his chin and neck. A gaping energy burn is predominant in his lower abdomen. MacDonald's eyes widen, "THX? What the hell is going on?" Shadowstrike wipes the man's mouth once again, trying to clear the blood, and then begins compressions, pressing down on the man's chest fifteen times in rapid succession, counting below his breath. THX-1136 leans forward a bit more, and speaks to man with it's deep, electronic voice. "Are you capable of speech?" A single sensor swivels around as MacDonald enters, but the Phyrrian does not reply to him. "The man is dying." Gray says simply, tone quiet but matter of fact. Shadowstrike turns towards Gray, growling slightly, "Aye, perhaps he is. But I will do what I can to prevent that." The prone man, his head now bobbing around with less control than a normal being would have under Shadowstrike's influences, continues to stare at THX-1136. There's a moment or two of pause and then his lips part and a quiet whisper escapes from it's mouth. Shadowstrike looks at the man as he speaks, rising and moves off of the man's legs and closer to his head. MacDonald crosses his arms, "Obviously." He quiets down and takes a step forward.. THX-1136 looks up at the Demarian. "He said, 'invader.' I do not understand what he means by this." It's sensors continues to swivel back and forth, monitoring MacDonald's speech and movement. Gray stays where he is, to the right of the door. MacDonald's eyes narrow.. "Invader?" Shadowstrike blinks at the Phyrrian, "Invader? Are you one-hundred percent sure of this?" The man, his lips still curved upward as if hidden fingers are puppeting his movements, slowly slackens his stance. His eyelids close and his body ceases movement. The only thing that remains is the simple grin upon his face. "This sounds familiar to you both?" Gray asks. THX-1136 nods once to Shadowstrike. "I am absolutely sure." It looks back down at the man. Shadowstrike checks the man's vitals one last time with a determined look on his face, his hand meanwhile drawing his sidearm and bringing it to the man. MacDonald shakes his head, "Unless he's talking about the Nall." His hand slips to his jacket and the stun gun hidden within, "Allright.. I'm all for getting the hell out of here.." Gray's green eyes go remote. "Yes. Now." MacDonald shoots a glance at Gray, "You feel it too?" MacDonald's eyes widen, "Go!!" He scrambles towards the hatch. THX-1136 rises up to full height, bringing it's weapons up to full ready-mode. "Feel it. Hear it." Gray says grimly. He watches MacDonald scramble, and seems to have little problem following after. Shadowstrike checks the man's vitals ons last time with a determined look on his face, his hand meanwhile drawing his sidearm and bringing it to the man's temple, He says, "wroWall Mrrrerree Grwawwl phuurrr Grwawwl mralla wroWall m'Mroowll mrrrroowl mrrrroowl PruurRrr Sssiipft wroWall mralla Grwawwl raWawwll Tthhhfft Mmrroow raWll mralla PruurRrr mrrrroowl phhmmmfft Grwawwl Mmrroow Mmrroow Mmrroow m'Mroowll Mmrroow phuurrr m'Mroowll raWawwll wroWall raWll phuurrr m'Mroowll wroWall Tthhhfft m'Mroowll Tthhhfft Rrawl Tthhhfft Grwawwl Sssiipft mrrrroowl Mrrrerree Mrrrerree m'Mroowll raWawwll PruurRrr mralla Rrawl m'Mroowll raWawwll raWll mralla Sssiipft wroWall mralla Rrawl Tthhhfft Grwawwl Rrawl" MacDonald, Gray, Shadowstrike, and THX-1136 disembark to the Guardian Shield. MacDonald starts towards the aft as he steps through the airlock, "As soon as they're onboard, undock and move us away..." MacDonald heads into Main Corridor - Wolf Class Frigate. Shadowstrike climbs in through the hatch, a determined and slightly angry look on his face as he heads towards the navigation console. MacDonald arrives from Main Corridor - Wolf Class Frigate. Shadowstrike mans the Navigation Console. "Link with the Hallward." Gray orders. Shadowstrike nods, "Working on it." Shadowstrike turns to MacDonald, "We need our shields dropped, Mr. MacDonald." THX-1136 lowers it's arms to it's sides after emerging through the hatch, it's head sweeping back and forth, taking visual inventory of the room. "Still feel it, Demarian?" Gray asks. Shadowstrike turns to Gray, "Our vessels are linked." Shadowstrike nods once, "The presence is there." "Here." Gray corrects. And he moves to reboard his ship without further comment. MacDonald taps the side of his head as he re-enters, "It followed us.." Gray heads into Main Corridor - Wolf Class Frigate. THX-1136 turns it's robotic gaze toward the Demarian. "Please define 'presence,' Shadowstrike." Shadowstrike turns to MacDonald as Gray departs, "Raise the shields again, Mr. MacDonald. The presence is indeed here. Agent, the presence is the essence of what the Mystics warned the galaxy of. The 'Invader'" Shadowstrike turns back to the console and speaks, addressing nobody in particular, He says, "mrrrroowl Sssiipft mrrrroowl Tthhhfft phhmmmfft phuurrr raWll mrrrroowl m'Mroowll Mmrroow Mmrroow raWll Mrrrerree raWll raWawwll" MacDonald's eyes widen, "Shadowstrike, tell me all you can about this..Invader." Shadowstrike speaks into his microphone, transmitting the following message. "Basil Hallward, can you accompany us back to the Sanctuary vessel?" Shadowstrike turns to MacDonald, "In due time, Mr. MacDonald. I have spoken with several Mystics about it, so I know a small amount about it. This is my second encounter with it." Shadowstrike speaks into his microphone, transmitting the following message. "Do you have Demaria?" THX-1136 tilts it's head for a moment, then turns it toward MacDonald. It's sapphire eye-lenses rotate and focus on him for a moment before the Phyrrian turn it's gaze toward the viewscreen. Shadowstrike speaks into his microphone, transmitting the following message. "all right. Just a moment." MacDonald arches an eyebrow as he heads for the command chair.. "Just get us back to Sanctuary." Shadowstrike nods, "Working on it." Shadowstrike speaks into his microphone, transmitting the following message. "the Sanctuary is at -2499666, -2497651, -2497620" Shadowstrike speaks into his microphone, transmitting the following message. "Jumping now. See you at the Sanctuary, Basil Hallward" The ship roars and lurches as it enters OtherSpace. Shadowstrike nods to MacDonald, "I will explain everything I know when we arrive at the Sanctuary."